Whatever Happened to the Trainer from Pallet Town?
by Harvi
Summary: Pikachu is dead. Ash Ketchum hasn't been seen for months. At Pikachu's funeral in the Pokémon Tower, his closest friends and deadliest enemies gather to pay their final respects. One by one, however, guests are taken aside by a shadowy stranger, who's determined to cut through the talk to answer the ultimate question: Whatever happened to the Trainer from Pallet Town?
1. Pikachu's Funeral

Just before Misty, Ash and Brock decide to go their separate ways, a terrible tragedy strikes: Pikachu is killed. This story is set two years after the disaster. Enjoy Part One of this 10-parter epic. More parts coming soon!

* * *

'… Plus, on his day, Pikachu could kick ass. Let's not forget that about him. I know Ash would have wanted me to say it. That Thunderbolt, jeez! Powerful or what! It could take down the mightiest of 'em all on his day. Heck, just ask Team Rocket. Or even my Onix…'

There is polite tittering from the crowd of mourners, all of whom are gathered in the Pokemon Tower for today's service.

To commemorate the death of the Pikachu that formerly belonged to Ash Ketchum.

'Above all, though, Pikachu was a loyal friend. He did a lot of good, that little guy. He'd always help the Pokemon in need. Pikachu, buddy, if you're up there, know this: it was a true honour to travel with you for all those years. An absolute honour.'

Brock looks out into the throng of the mourners. They line up almost as far as the eye can see. And, boy oh boy, it's a hell of a sight.

A sight of unity, of compassion, of love. Pokemon and humans are intermingled. And everybody's here. Some had only heard of the legend of the little electric mouse that could take down Pokemon twice his size. Others- like Professor Oak- knew Pikachu intimately, all the way back from the early days. Long forgotten friends like Primeape and Butterfree have travelled for miles across Kanto to take just a moment for their dear, deceased friend. The one trainer that knows him best, however, is nowhere to be seen.

Brock takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, as he's struck by yet another wave of grief.

'Th… that's all I have to say. Rest in peace, buddy. You were the best. _The best._ '

He then steps down from the pulpit, and returns to his seat.

At the end of the funeral, people make polite conversation about Pikachu. Reminiscing about the good times, the glory days. Lamenting the fact that it's always the good ones that are the first to go. In fact, the atmosphere is so full of melancholy and sadness that not a single mourner notices the shadowy figure that stands alone, draped in darkness. This person can sense the atmosphere in the room, the unspoken question that nobody dare ask. But everybody's thinking it.

 _Whatever happened to the Trainer from Pallet Town?_

* * *

'Misty…'

'Brock…'

'It's been a while.'

'Yeah.'

Then there's silence. Both are quite pleased to see each other. But neither of them really know what to say.

Soon, though, the expression on Misty's goes from happiness to irritation. Her face reddens. There's clearly something bothering her.

And Brock knows exactly what's coming. _That_ _vintage_ _Misty rage_. Oh, how he's missed this. And then Brock realises just how lucky he's been over the years. He'd managed to avoid a lot of it, with poor Ash receiving the lion's share of the nagging whenever Misty saw red. But in our beloved friend's absence…

'Why didn't you call Brock?

Brock looks down at the floor. Now his face is going red, too. He feels embarrassed, like he's a little kid again.

'One call, that's all it would have taken. But I got nothing. You knew I was stuck in Cerulean City. Working my butt off at the Gym. And still I heard nothing. Zilch. Why the radio silence, Brock? Why?'

Brock continues to stare at the floor. What should he say? What could he possibly say that would make this- whatever the hell *this* even was- all right?

'Misty, this has hasn't been easy for me eith-'

'You think it's been easy for me Brock?'

'I never said-'

'Cos it hasn't. Not in any way. You know how much Pikachu meant to me. Not to even mention Ash… his whole… disappearing act. You know, none of us know a single thing about where he is. Not a damn thing, Brock. We've got posters in every town, every village, every damn hamlet, every Officer Jenny in every region working their fingers to the bone. Every morning I wake up with renewed hope, and every night I lie in bed at night overwhelmed with darkness and despair, crying myself to sleep. That sound easy to you, Brock? Does it?'

Brock just stares at the floor. Words fail him. Just like he's failed everyone else…

'I can't explain, Misty. I can't. I just can't. I know I should have looked out for you, and I'm sorry I didn't. But I couldn't. I wasn't up for it. I needed time to process this. To put it all in perspective… Travelling with Ash was my whole life. I still can't believe it's ended, _how_ it ended…'

Misty's expression softens, ever so slightly.

'But I'm here now, Misty. I promise you that. I'm with you now. You won't be alone anymore.'

Misty notices the tears streaming down Brock's face and realises that he, too, has been suffering. Silently grieving, the only way that some men _can_ grieve. Not knowing how to articulate that emptiness and hopelessness within him. Oh, Brock, you poor thing…

She moves closer to Brock, wipes his tears away.

'And I'm here, too, Brock. I'm here for you. You won't be alone, either.'

The two great friends then tenderly embrace. All the anger and the bitterness fades as quickly as it has come about in the first place, replaced with the feeling of contentedness and warmth that comes with being reunited with a long lost friend that you didn't think you'd see again.

'Excuse me?'

Brock and Misty turn around, slowly. Standing behind them is a figure, clad all in black. Their face is concealed by a gigantic, oversized-hood, and the gender-neutral clothes worn give no indication as to the person's gender. Although their voice is muffled by the absurd hood, the person speaks with an air of authority.

 _'Can I have a word?'_


	2. Misty: So, Here's The Thing

**Interview with Misty of Celadon City.**

* * *

 _So, Misty. Thanks for agreeing to this. First thing I'd like to talk to you about is... well, you've probably guessed already. Could you tell me a little about the accident?_

'Sorry, I don't feel ready to talk about that right now… can I have a few minutes to get my head straight? Thanks…

First things first, I just gotta get this off my chest: I think Ash is still alive. No, I don't know anything you don't. I haven't seen him in forever. Not since the accident. I don't think anyone has… And I don't think he'll ever come back, either. You have to remember, Ash was so upset after Pikachu died, that you can't even imagine… He didn't say anything when it happened, no, but the look on his face… my word. I don't know how any human being could ever recover from that.

 _What, in your opinion, is Ash up to now?_

He's looking for Pikachu, probably. Dead or alive. He won't stop until he's found him. That's for sure.

 _And yourself…?_

Me? How is that even relevant, please?! Well, okay, if you say so… I've been back in Cerulean, keeping an eye on the Gym. Daisy, Lily, Violet, my sisters, I don't even know if they're gonna come back, we've never been that close anyway… I don't sound that enthusiastic about it, I know, and that's cos I'm not… But it's my responsibility to take over the Gym. It'd be shut down if I left it unattended.

 _Have you been seeing anyone since… the accident?_

Hey, that's none of your business! All I'll say is this: a girl can't wait forever. With Ash, I dunno, I guess I just kind of assumed at some point something would… I dunno. I guess the whole lesson I've taken from this whole thing is: don't assume anything. If you want to do something, if you wanna say something, if you want to _be_ something, then do it. If you wait too long, it can soon become too late…

Look. The only reason I travelled with Ash in the first place was cos he owed me a bike.. well, that's what I said, anyway. Truth is, I forgot about the bike aeons ago. I stuck with Ash because… well, Ash is a good, pure, honest person. They're aren't many people like Ash in this world. When you find one, you stick with them. And hope that they stick with you…

I just hope, wherever Ash is now, this world or the next, that he's happy. That he's reunited with Pikachu. That's the most important thing, really. You can't have one without the other. Yin and yang, salt and pepper, cheese and onion, take your pick of metaphors because those two were all of them. It's both or nothing. Goodness, in the grand scheme of things, the damn bike seems so unimportant…

Okay, I think I'm okay to talk about the… accident. Now… if you like…

 _Please… go ahead._

It was just a regular day. Pikachu gets kidnapped by Team Rocket. It's no big deal, you know? It seemed to happen every other day. We even used to laugh about that big Meowth balloon. It's stupid, grinning face, it's ludicrous enormity, it seemed like it was all just so one big gimmicky joke… but, by the end of the day, no-one was smiling.

 _No, I shouldn't think so…_

Look, you have to believe me here. This is _really_ important. Team Rocket never _meant_ to hurt Pikachu. They were the bad guys, yeah, but 'good' bad guys, in a way. There was a sort of innocence about them, like they never really actually wanted to do any real damage, like they never thought they'd actually _get_ Pikachu. Sort of like they were just doing it to give them something to do, like they were playing a part, maybe even just to kill time… Never to kill Pikachu. Never that.

I couldn't see properly who did it. Who took that final, fatal shot, the one that caused this whole tragic affair. But James's Ekans and Ash's Pidgeotto were fighting, and one of them knocked Pikachu out of Meowth's hands. I couldn't see which one it was. Obviously Ash had his own idea of what happened, and dealt with it in his own way…

 _Yes, what he did to James was-_

I don't condone what he did to James. No, it was sickening, but Ash was so upset, he wasn't in control of himself…

Anyway. Pikachu was in a cage. And this time it really _was_ shock resistant. Even for Pikachu, there was no way out. This time, the only sodding time, Team Rocket had done their homework. I bet they really wish they hadn't.

And the fall… it seemed like he was… when I still shut my eyes, I can still see it… hear him screaming…

 _…_

Th-th- thanks… thanks for the tissue. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just can't talk about this anymore…'


	3. Gary: You're Lookin' At Him!

**Interview with Gary Oak of Pallet Town**

* * *

 _Mr Oak. Thanks for agre-_

'Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's just get this over with.

 _Okay. To the point, as ever, Mr Oak. First up: What were you doing in Celadon City on the day of Pikachu's accident?_

Huh? Let me think about that. Pikachu's accident, Pikachu's accident… oh yeah, I got it. Studyin'. I was studyin'.

 _…Studying?!_

Yeah. You heard right, bucko! Studyin', I was. At the university! Whaddya mean I don't strike you as the readin' type?! If you want me to keep talking, ya' better learn some manners already! Jeez…  
So, like I was sayin', I was in the library. Dead quiet an' all. As libraries tend to be. Sometimes there's a lotta rustlin' though. Inconsiderate librarians, lazy students, satanists the lot of 'em, ya know… Anyways. Off topic. But, then, outta nowhere, there was this noise. And whatta noise! Man, it was SO loud. Actually, ya know what, loud ain't even the word… It was like thunder, earthquakes, blizzards and hurricanes. BILLIONS of them, all crashing together and exploding at the same time… Pikachu didn't have a chance, if he was caught up in that.

 _You were quite a few miles away from the lake, too. And it was still that loud! It's quite remarkable…_

I know, right? I just wish I could have seen it. A hundred Gyarados at once. A hundred! Yep, that's the number I've heard. Out of nowhere! It was one in a million. One in a million! And, ya know, trust Ash to get to see that shit. Typical! He always gets the lucky breaks…

 _Well, I'm not sure you could call anything about what's happened to Ash lately 'lucky'…_

Hmmm… Yeah, actually, thinkin' about it, you're right there. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that… even for me, that was, ya know, insensitive. A bit crass, yeah. Plus it's impolite to speak ill of the dead, an' all that…

 _Wait up there. Ash is dead? That's what you just said, right? What have your heard? Who told you this?_

Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, bucko. Hold those horses tight. I don't know anything you don't know. Ol' Gary here ain't even heard a whisper. Never said I had. I don't know nothin'. I certainly don't know for a fact he's dead, neither.  
But listen here. And let's be rational about this. I'm just gonna come out and say it, okay? Ash Ketchum is dead. He's gotta be. How long has he been missing for now? How many months? Is it years, even? Years, right? Cos I tell ya, I've lost count.

 _You seem to have all the answers, Mr Oak. So tell me. Is Pikachu really dead? You know those been whispe-_

Again with the whispers. Jeez. I can't believe you're even asking that question. We're at Pikachu's funeral. His _funeral._ Didn't you say you were a detective? Isn't that, sort of, what do they say, a clue? As to whether a Pokemon's living or not? They're dead. Both of 'em. D. E. A. D. Dead. No, I don't like sayin' it. I take no pleasure in sayin' it. Who would? You'd have to be sick in the head. Yes, Ash could be annoyin', a right pain in the ass truth be told, but hell, I don't want the kid to be dead- I've known him since like forever. Ya know, as long as anyone else I've known. But somebody's got to say it. No-one at this funeral will say it, no-one has the balls. But everyone's thinking it. Trust me. I know about things like this. I know funerals an' I know people, how they work.

 _What happened to Ash after the accident, then? Or- to put it bluntly- whatever happened to the Trainer from Pallet Town?_

Hmmm… Whatever happened to the trainer from Pallet Town, eh? Well, you're looking at him. Gary motherfuckin' Oak. That's the last trainer from Pallet Town still standin'. All that's left. I hate to be crude again, but if you're gonna give up training and, ya know, do what Ash did, run away an' all that, just cos you lost one ickle Pokemon, then I'm sorry, but you ain't cut out to be a trainer. I always knew he'd be better off just stayin' in Pallet Town. Always said that. He should've asked for my advise, cos that's what I'd have told him to do. It'd saved everyone a whole lotta heartache. I coulda seen this all comin' a mile off, really.  
Oh, is that the time? Well, I'm sorry but that's all the pearls of wisdom you're gonna get from me. I've got a hot date just desperate for my company right about now… if you'll excuse me.

 _Okay. Thanks for your time, Mr Oak. Who is this date? If you don't mind my asking…_

No comment. No comment needed, jeez, her looks'll alone stun you into silence…heheh. Maybe I'm not so unlucky after all...'


	4. Brock: This Is What Happened

**Interview with Brock of Pewter City.**

* * *

 _So, Brock. Thanks for coming to have a little chat with me._

That's okay. But I don't wanna be too long. Misty's not in a good way, not after she spoke to you… sorry, nothing personal against you, but she's really upset. I don't wanna leave her on her own for any longer than I need to…

 _That's fine. This won't take long._

Coolio.

 _Let's get to it, then. I've heard you thought Ash was going to show up at the funeral today?_

Truthfully? Yeah. I'm surprised he hasn't. Part of me still thinks he'll show up, I guess… I thought Ash'd want to arrange the funeral, first and foremost. And I definitely thought he'd at least _be_ here today. Thought that this whole thing would bring him some closure or something. Like I'm hoping it will for me…

 _Maybe it's because Pikachu's body was never found. Some say Ash thinks Pikachu is still alive._

Yeah… the fact we never found Pikachu's body does sort of complicate everything. I can see why that might mess Ash up a bit, a funeral with no body to bury… But Pikachu's been legally dead for a year. That's a long time. And it bloody feels it, too. You gotta remember that. It felt like the right time to try and draw a line under the great, awful, messed-up tragedy that this is, to try and move on. And, of course, we do know Pikachu's definitely dead. There's no way Pikachu could have possibly survived a fall like that. Let alone the Gyarados attack…

 _Do you still remember the accident?_

Do I… I'm never gonna forget it. It was awful, just awful. I'm never gonna get over it. The worst day of my life.  
You've seen the average Gyrados. They're huge, enormous, absurdly and frighteningly colossal. Well, this lot were ten times the size of any others I've seen before. And there were so many of them, I could have sworn there were at least a hundred. _At least_. And it felt like a million…  
And yet… There was something divine about that day… and no, of course I don't mean it in a good, 'God was watching over us and smiling' kinda way. But there was just something phenomenal in the way that, as soon as Pikachu started to fall, I mean the _exact precise moment,_ a herd of tremendous Gyarados appeared from the sea. In a fit of rage and a show of power that you just know you'll never see again. It was mind-blowing.

 _So I've heard…_

You know, it was like that they knew that Pikachu wasn't gonna survive a fall like that. Like they knew he was already dead. Like they were… commemorating his life, by celebrating his death. I know it sounds crazy, but it sort of makes sense to me now. I think about that day so much. It's just about the only thing about it all that DOES make sense to me. A swarm of a hundred of the most enormous Gyarados you could imagine, all using Dragon Rage. A send-off fit for a King.  
You know, thinking back now, I swear I even think I saw James's Gyarados in that swarm… I don't know if that had anything to do with any of this, like it was some kind of belated revenge plan gone awry or something. James was never too nice to Magikarp, if I recall. But it felt more supernatural to me, personally.  
As for Pikachu, his body was never found. The police said that his body was washed away upstream, and eventually floated all the way into the ocean. That, or… man I don't even wanna say it.

 _…Brock…_

His body was crushed to dust by the Gyarados.

 _…Wow…_

Is that all, sir? Or is it, madam? Sorry, no offence, it's just I can't see your face properly…

 _That's all, Brock._

Thanks. I need to go back and comfort Misty now. She's so shaken up. Truth be told, she hasn't been the same since the accident…

* * *

The mysterious stranger sits there. Deep breaths. In, out. Observe the surroundings- the cold, clinical room. Ask yourself. Go on. Ask.

 _Where are you?_

Again.

 _Are you even out there at all?_

Good…

 _Or is what they say.. could it be.. true?_

Consider the next move. Who to talk to next? Or- to be precise- who else can be talked to?

The picture may be clearer after speaking to those three. They'd been useful. But it was like trying to see with a torch in thick fog. All still so impossibly blurry. After some time, the stranger realises what must be done. Who must be talked to next.

The bad guys.

It was a surprise to see them here. In with the other mourners. After what they'd done. And they'd actually looked solemn, too. Like they were feeling… dunno. Something. Maybe, after all this time, they were feeling some remorse. Some guilt. For the years of harassment and crap and bullshit they'd put Ash and the others through over the years. Too late, though. The damage was done. Remorse doesn't bring people back from the dead. Guilt is cyanide. Kills you from the inside.

Better go and talk to them, though. There's no choice. Hell, not through choice would you speak to people like that. People like… Team Rocket. They're not kind of people you go to coffee with, not the kind of people you schmooze, not the kind of of people you want your daughter bringing home. God forbid…

Focus, the stranger tells themselves. Focus. No distractions. Think of the question. The final question. The question that tortures you. And him. Especially him.

 _Is what they're all saying true? Are you really dead?_


	5. Jessie: It Was Cold-Blooded Murder

**Interview with Jessie of Team Rocket**

 _Jessie… I just have to say, I'm really surprised to see you here at Pikachu's funeral today…_

Hmm. It's a condition of my parole. To show remorse. Act like I've done wrong. Mmm. Well, it isn't, but it could be. For all you know. Or care. Who even are you, anyway?

 _Jessie, I'd appreciate it if you could just answer my questions. Please._

Fine. As you asked nicely… manners aren't normally bothered with for people like me. For us baddies… so, fine. Let's do it. Begin!

 _Can you confirm- or deny- the rumours that Ash has turned? That he's… well, that he's joined Team Rocket._

You know what, I dunno. Huh… I guess you haven't heard. But I'm not part of the Rocket anymore. So, if he has crossed the line, I don't know anything about it. I know nothing more than you do, anyway. Just the same rumour. Even if I was part of Team Rocket, I doubt I'd have heard. Ash'd be a high-up, no doubt. Higher than I ever got, anyway. All those years of service, and Giovanni used to keep me totally out the loop… I didn't know why I even bothered in the first place. I'm better off on my own. One hundred percent.  
But I'll say this- it wouldn't surprise me if Ash has turned. Before, I used to think he was this dopey, innocent kid. An idiot, sure. But harmless. He'd just got lucky, stumbled on an overpowered Pokemon by accident. But after what he did to James? I'm not so sure anymore. Ash's capable of doing _anything_ now.

 _Can you describe the.. accident?_

Accident? Accident, did you say? It wasn't just Pikachu that died. Two lives were lost the day. TWO. And no-one cares. No-one wants to talk about it. Plus, I haven't even seen poor Meowth since what happened... not that anyone gives a damn, not that anyone's looking for him. We're human beings too, but no-one cares.

 _Jessie. I'm sorry for your loss. I should have made that clear. Truly, I am._

Yeah, right. Sure you are. Just like everyone else is. Huh…

 _Now, can you please tell me about the accident and the… manslaughter?_

Murder. Not manslaughter. MURDER. Call a spade a spade. You'll feel better. What Ash did to James… my word. I didn't think the kid had it in him. It was an ACCIDENT, just an accident. Brock would tell you that. Misty would tell you that. Anyone would. We wanted to kidnap Pikachu, to give him over to the top brass, not murder him. Even Giovanni was pissed that Pikachu was killed, because Pikachu had all this power and that could've been real useful to us. But the boy was merciless. What he did to James, oh my…

 _So, what happened exactly?_

After Pikachu had crashed to the ground, after Ekans had taken that fateful shot, we knew that we'd goofed up. Like I said, we wanted a live Pikachu, one we could pass on to Giovanni, to finally get us climbing up that greasy pole, get us a bit of power. Stop people walking all over us. Cos that's all they ever used to do.  
Anyway, Pikachu falls, so we bring the hot-air balloon down as soon as we can. Actually, thinking back, we pretty much crash-landed. We couldn't think straight enough to land properly, what with all the insane noise that the Gyarados were making. We landed in between the brats and the Gyarados in the lake, right in-between 'em. Looking back, to say we were caught between a rock and a hard place is the understatement of the century…  
That's when it happened. Ash forced James into the water… screamed at him.  
'You did this! You save him!'  
… Over and over again. Maybe the kid has a split personality. He wasn't going in himself, I'll tell you that. Because he knew it was suicide. That's why I have to say this- it WASN'T manslaughter, whatever the police say. It was murder. Cold-blooded murder. James never stood a chance.  
Then, when James didn't move, Ash used Charizard, made him attack James. _Take Down, Fire Spin, Take Down, Fire Spin…_ a cocktail of pure agony. He didn't even even need to do it… James was a caring human being. Sensitive, too. He'd have gone in himself, for sure, to rescue Pikachu, do his damn best anyway. But the kid had lost it totally. In James went… and he never even stood a chance.  
When the Gyarados had finally cleared off after their absurd song and dance, or whatever the hell it was, the twerp made me use the Magikarp submarine, to look for Pikachu. I scoured the ocean floor for hours, but Pikachu was nowhere to be seen. The water was so choppy that day, that he could have floated for miles upstream before we even started looking. But I did find James. What was left of him. We brought him up to the surface. We tried everything but it wasn't enough…

 _… Jessie, I can give you a minute if you nee-_

No.

 _Okay. Hmm… Okay. Where is Meowth now? I might need to talk to him._

He was on the ground… he helped capture Pikachu, get him in the cage, but, in all the kerfuffle, we forgot to pick him up before we escaped. I know that sounds cruel, but it really wasn't. And here's why. One, we'd actually got Pikachu! That seems to have been forgotten in all this. We'd ACTUALLY achieved our aim. And we so nearly succeeded in fulfilling it. Two, we're Team frickin' Rocket! We're meant to be cruel! It's in our DNA!

 _What are you up to now?_

We're Team Rocket. We don't get offered therapy. God forbid sympathy. And it's been so tough without James. Even without Meowth… Plus, I've had no support from Team Rocket. That affiliation is over as far as I'm concerned. Definitely as far as they're concerned.  
Modelling, maybe I'll do that… I have the hair, the looks, and, now, the time to do it as well. I've always wanted to do it. This figure was always wasted on Ash frickin' Ketchum, let's be honest. And, I guess, I can do it now. But you know, I just wish James was still around, above anything else. Life seems so empty without him, like I'm missing half of myself…

 _Could you give me an address for James's place of burial, please? I'd like to… pay my respects._

Pay your… you know what, okay. Fine. It'd be nice to have someone else visit, I guess. Here's where you need to go…

* * *

The stranger removes the black leather gloves, and places their hands on the cold, hard gravestone. Engraved are just six words:

 _Here lies James._

 _One of three._

Before the stranger had set off, Jessie had said that she'd had to pay for their headstone herself. After all of James's years of service, Team Rocket wouldn't even do that for him. Pure scum. But, you lie down with dogs, you get fleas. Simple.

All is becoming clearer now, though. Jessie raised points long since forgotten, smudged and blurred to the point where they're no longer part of the public narrative. Brock and Misty had been all over the papers. Their pleas for Ash to come home. How he was forgiven, entirely and wholly. They'd been the darlings of the media. Damsels in distress…

Yes, Ash was a victim- but also a perpetrator. He was guilty of manslaughter, at the very least. Maybe Ash is on the run. Could that be why he wouldn't come home?

Then, a pang of guilt. About Meowth. What had happened to him? No-one had even checked. He could have been caught up in the chaos of the Gyarados ritual. His body could have floated anywhere. Was he declared legally dead by now? Did anyone even care? Whatever happened to the talking cat?


	6. Talking Cat

**Talking Cat**

 _You're blasting off again…_

 _It's warm.._

 _It's cold…_

 _You're floating…_

 _Winding down…_

 _Into the depths of heaven..._

 _Or is it hell?_

 _A paw… can you grab a paw…_

 _Can we grab each other? Hold on to each other? You wonder if you'll ever find out._

You're abandoned as a kitten. You never knew your mother.

You're so hungry. So hungry. Now you're in Hollywood. It's not paradise. It's hell.

You're stealing food to survive. People give you nothing. People care nothing for you. You never chose the life of crime- the life of crime chose you.

Now you're part of a gang. Persian takes you in. The father figure you never had. You taste the warm flow of acceptance for the first time.

And then it happens.

Everything turns on its head.

 _Meowzie._

But you're too poor. You're not human. You're too street. You're just _not good enough_.

So you're learning to talk.

Takes days. Months. Years.

 _She sells seashells…_

Blood. Sweat. Tears.

 _…on the seashore…_

But you manage it. You learn to walk upright. It's unnatural. Feels wrong. Against your very biology. But you manage it.

You do this for her.

She rejects you.

 _Freak._

Ringing in your ears. It never stops ringing.

Poor Meowth. Poor poor Meowth.

But then you remember. Rocket.

You're with Jessie and James. Travelling the world. You try to catch Pikachu.

 _Over and over._

You come close. Sometimes very, very close. But you never do catch Pikachu. And you never expect to. You never will. But you're happy. It's not the life you wanted. But it is the life you needed.

Then Pikachu is with you. Trapped together with you. And you're hungry. So hungry. Like you're an abandoned kitten again.

And Pikachu's sharing an apple with you. Pikachu saves you. You feel tingly inside, and you realise it's because someone's done something good for you. Someone's treated you like a Pokemon. Because that's what you are.

Not a freak.

Not a lackey.

 _You're a Pokemon._

Conniving.

Prideful.

Greedy.

 _But a Pokemon._

And you just want to be loved. Just like everybody else does.

You're sitting there, under the moonlight, chomping away. Now he's asleep in your lap. Well, a Pokemon can dream, can't they? And you did dream that night. You dream about joining Ash and Pikachu. Being treated like a Pokemon. Forever.

 _You wonder if you did enough… You're there, he's there and you're so close, so close…_

 _It's warm.._

 _It's cold…_

 _You're floating…_

 _Winding down…_

 _A paw… can you grab a paw…_

 _Did you do you enough to save him… you wonder if you'll ever find out._

 _You're blasting off again…_


	7. The Mysterious Stranger Speaks Out

**The Mysterious Stranger Speaks Out**

I take in a deep breath. And let it out again.

SIGH…

I didn't want it to come to this, yet absolutely knew that it was going to. It's peculiar how, with even the slightest, faintest trace of hope dangling over their heads, even the most rational, sensible person can fool themselves into denying the inevitable. I type out a message. The message I knew I would send, yet, with every fibre of my being, wanted not to.

It reads:

'No-one's heard anything, Ash. Not a single clue. I spoke to everyone you asked. I'm sorry, Ash, but it's over.'

Then, I add:

'Pikachu is dead.'

I know this comes across as blunt, crude even, but I feel like I have to make it as clear as humanly possible to Ash that this matter is over as far as I'm concerned. Hell, EVERYONE sane KNOWS that Pikachu is DEAD. EVERYONE sane KNOWS that NO POKEMON could have survived a hundred foot fall. Not a Pokemon of that size. Let alone surviving the onslaught of a horde of raging Gyarados. Don't get me wrong, I can see why Ash refuses to accept that Pikachu died like this. That poor, sweet little Pikachu, the horror it must have gone through before the end…

But any detective could figure out, really. The broken cage, found smashed into smithereens on some rock, miles upstream from where Pikachu was dropped, is all the proof any sane person would need.

Finding Pikachu's body wouldn't draw a line under the matter, for such a line was drawn long ago. The ocean is an impossibly big, impossibly brilliant thing, with infinite hidden depths. Its scale, though, makes it very, very hard to find a rodent-sized Pokemon. Maybe Pikachu's body will wash up on a shore some day. I'd hope that would give Ash some small amount of comfort, because, although I can reassure myself with the knowledge that I've done my best to help him, I know my efforts will not bring him the closure he so desperately needs.

But I don't think that Ash Ketchum is a sane person anymore. He _was_ a good man. One of the very best, even. But he's deluded himself now. He's beyond all reason or logic. An island unto himself. Not that I've seen him at all since his disappearance, mind. Or had any contact, barring a single text message.

 _'Help me find him. Please. I've got nothing left'._

How he'd got my number, I have no idea. Naturally, I traced it, to try and discover the location of the missing man himself, only to find that such a number had, apparently, never existed in the first place. As far as the police was concerned, however, the investigation was closed. To discover the answer to Ash's question, therefore, I had to be discreet. To look for Pikachu _under the pretence_ of finding Ash. I couldn't justify such a waste in police time by reopening the Pikachu case, not when resources are so limited.

As for Ash, I'd never wanted to find him. He had done so much good over the years, had helped the force so much in keeping the Rocket at bay, that I felt like I owed him this. Ash doesn't need to be found, and he doesn't need to be brought to justice. Not as far as I'm concerned. Pikachu's death is enough of a punishment for him. And jail would just finish him off.

Why he didn't Ash just ask his friends himself if they knew anything? Why did he need to use me as a medium? God only knows. My detection skills only go so far. Although I can't help but feel it's cruel, the way Ash's left his friends in the lurch like this.

I wait by the phone, paralysed by anticipation. What will Ash say? What will his response to this potentially devastating news be? A flicker of panic rushes through me, and, for a second, I fear Ash's wrath.

 _Maybe he'll find me, hunt me down, do what he did to James…_

And, yet, a reply never comes.

 _Christ above._

Well, there really is nothing I can do now. I console myself with the knowledge that I've done all I can to help him. Gone above and beyond the call of duty. Now, though, it is time to switch off from Ash. From Pikachu. From Misty, Brock, Jessie, all of them. Time to separate work and play. As this thought enters my head, a devilishly handsome young man, swaggering along with a clear sense of purpose, comes into my line of sight.

My attention moves away from the Trainer of Pallet Town. On to another.

Here he is.

A little bit late. Or- as he would put it- 'fashionably late'.

He grins, his usual smug, arrogant- and, I would actually argue, charming- grin.

Gary Oak himself.

'Officer Jenny', he says, 'so good to see you again.'


	8. Ketchum: Black

**Ketchum: Black.**

I hurl the phone to the floor. It smashes into a million pieces on the floor.

 _Just like any hope I'd had of ever finding Pikachu.._

It's broken and damaged beyond any repair. And yet I feel no regret. The brief, fleeting moment of satisfaction I get from destroying something intricately put together, not to mention very, very expensive, is the first positive emotion I have felt in months.

Contacting Jenny had been the last roll of the dice. I hadn't wanted to contact anyone. I've nothing to say.

And- yet- it had all been for nothing.

Nobody knew anything.

NOTHING.

* * *

I felt like I was gonna be a kid forever, Pikachu. Forever travelling, making new friends, new discoveries, never settling. And never needing to, either. Everything fresh, everything new, everything vivid and pure.

I guess this is what growing up feels like.

No- that's wrong. This is what dying feels like.

Because I'm dead, Pikachu.

Not literally- literally, technically, I'm still alive- but, in every other way, I'm dead.

Dead to my friends.

Dead to the world.

Dead to myself.

Dead to you.

I can't face my friends, Pikachu. I never will again. Because they have nothing to offer me, nor I them. I don't want to be comforted. Or hugged. Or told it's all gonna be okay. And I do not want closure. There is no closure. There never will be closure. Closure's a myth. It doesn't exist.

I hadn't suspected my friends, not really, Pikachu. I want you to understand that. It's important. I didn't think my friends were keeping anything from me, from the police. I just had to know if they'd heard anything. Something. Even a whisper. A rumour. Gossip. Just a lead. I'd do anything for a lead… anything for that feeling of hope, that chink of light, anything, anything, anything to fell just a little bit alive…

It was always silly, it was always a game. I never took them seriously. Team Rocket were a joke, the sad, pathetic losers following us around cos they had nothing better to do. The Tom to our Jerry.

And Tom never wins. The cat never gets the mouse. GOOD WINS OUT. Just like we won out, time after time. But that's not what happens, is it? Not in real life. Tom and Jerry is just a dumb cartoon. In our world, the cat does get the mouse. And then the cat tortures the mouse. The mouse is so scared it can't move. Yet still the cat plays with it, toys with it. Gives it a scrap of hope every now and again, tricks it into thinking that it might just escape...

It never does.

The cat will strip the mouse of dignity, so much so that, by the end, the mouse is willing the cat to just eat him, to get it over with, to end it all.

Eventually, the mouse will die from pure terror. There's only so much the poor thing's heart can take. If not, if it does somehow survive the sick sadistic torture session, then the cat will eat the mouse alive. Bite his head straight off. I guess 'Tom and Jerry: The Real World Edition' wouldn't have made for such a good kids TV show.

Going to your funeral won't give me closure. There IS no closure. I don't want closure. Not that people like Brock and Misty could ever understand.

I know it should get easier, Pikachu, but it doesn't. All I can do now is wander. I've nowhere to go. I've already released all of my Pokemon, back into the wild. I don't think the old me would have done that, he'd have called it cruel and heartless. But that me is dead now. A blurred smudge. And it's like he never existed at all.

Because I see now, Pikachu. For the first time, I see clearly. I see the emptiness, the darkness, the futility of all, of existence. How blind I've been. So foolish and naive. Life is nothing but emptiness. You can travel everywhere, meet everyone, do everything, and you end up in the same place in the end. As does everyone else you will ever love. Six feet under, in some unattended shitty graveyard. Or maybe in a jar of ashes. Perhaps a corpse for some medical students to butcher. And that's if you got lucky, that's if your body ever gets found…

If given the choice at the beginning, before one was ever born, when one could learn beforehand what a sick, cruel joke life was, nobody in their right mind would every chose life.

I regret being born more than anything else in the world.


	9. Pika: Goodbye Stars

**Pika: Goodbye Stars**

Grrrr.

Huh….

Grrrrrr….

No…..

GRRRRR….

OK! Pika get it. Pika KNOWS that Pika hungry. Nothing Pika can do. Gettit?

Pika no want to eat berries. Berries not good, not ripe. Pika prefer Brock food. Brock food so tasty. SO good.

Pika wonder, where Brock is? Pika not seen Brock in SO long. Not since night Pika can't remember.

That night a blur. That night gap in Pika memory.

Pika remember Rockets. They takes Pika. Rockets always take Pika. Pika in big Mewoth balloon. Pika high, Pika so high that Pika felt sick with scaredness.

Pika in cage, Pika not get out. Pika falling. Faster and faster, faster and faster, faster, faster, fasterfasterfaster…

Black.

Then, Pika on a beach. Everything hurt Pika now. Pika not like was before. Before Pika happy, Pika strong. Now Pika weak and sad. Pika lost everyone. Everyone forget about Pika. Light in Pika gone.

Pika hope Brock happy.

Now Pika think of another hooman. HIS human. Pika's Ash. Pika get sad when he think about his Ash. Ash no care about Pika anymore. He no look for Pika. If his Ash did care about Pika, he come and find Pika.

Pika not silly. Pika knows his Ash has other Pokemons to train and to be with. Maybe he happys just with them. He let Butterfrees go. Now he lets Pika go.

Pika miss his Ash.

Pika so lost. So long time. Pika so hungry and so thirsty. Pika live in the forest, but Pika no like the other Pokes living here. Pika used to think he like ALL Pokes, but these Pokes not good. Pika not belong here.

Now Pika eyes close. Pika want sleep again, but tummy no want. Pika's tummy loud and hurty.

Pika need food. So bad. More than sleep. But no food, not for Pika. Pika too tired to look for bad berries anymore.

Pika shut eyes. Will Pika open eyes evers again? Pika not know. Pika not care.

Pika remembers to say goodbyes before eyes shut. Like Pika always does. Always…

Goodbye Misty.

Goodbye Sun.

Goodbye Brock.

Goodbye Stars.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye…


	10. Ketchum: White

**Ketchum: White.**

I'm stuck in a moment that I can't get of. I think back to our first meeting. Actually, that's not true. I don't think back. I am there.

 _I am back on Route 1. You're shocking me. I deserve it. Because I am dragging you through Viridian Forest on a leash. It's wrong, but I don't what else to do, don't know how to handle the situation. I am but a child._

It's easy to smile about it now, but it really hurt back then. I'm not talking about the Thundershock, either. For a while, I honestly thought that it just wasn't going to work out between us.

 _You refuse to enter my Pokeball. I don't understand why. All other Pokemon go in their Pokeballs. That's just what Pokemon do. Why don't you, Pikachu? Why?_

Now, however, I know. Now, I understand. It's because we were both scared. So afraid. You were given a new trainer. Me, I was given a new Pokemon. Neither of us would have chosen the other. Never in a million years.

And, yet, it must have been fate that brought us together. Because I never would have chosen anyone else, had I known the powerful, brilliant yet compassionate Pokemon that lay just out of sight. Hidden in plain sight.

 _A hug for a shock. You won't fight for me. So I have no choice. I do it myself. With a rock. It does not go well. I fail myself. I fail you. But you save me, save from all of the Spearows. Jump onto my shoulder, into the air then POW! Thunder Shock!_

That's when I knew, Pikachu. That's when I knew.

I open my eyes. Route 1 vanishes. You're gone. And I'm alone. I feel even lonelier than before. I know this feeling all too well.

Growing up without a father or any brothers and sisters was hard, Pikachu. It was solitary and lonely, sometimes. You were my brother and my father and my best friend, all in one.

Back when I was a boy, I thought that being the best trainer in history was what I wanted. To be able to defeat every trainer that I came across, to catch every Pokemon along the way. That's what I was told to want. What I was meant to want. What I THOUGH I wanted.

But it wasn't. I got it wrong, hopelessly, terribly wrong. I'd give up, throw every Badge I own into the sea, just to have you back, old friend.

And yet, when all the loneliness and the misery subsides, I have this feeling within me. It's tiny, minuscule, but more powerful than anything I've ever felt before. It's my guiding light. A still, small voice of calm. It's the only thing that keeps me going. Yes, it's only a feeling. But, deep down, I know, I just _know_ that it's true.

I believe that Pikachu's alive. Hell, I know that he's out there somewhere. Our connection is THAT strong. And when your relationship is that deep, it can't ever be wrong.

I made a vow, Pikachu. To be the best Pokemon trainer in the world. But that doesn't mean being the best fighter, it doesn't being the strongest. It means doing everything in my power to find you and bring you home.

I just wish you could know this, Pikachu. I haven't given up. I am still looking for you. And I will never give up, even if it takes me the rest of my life. I don't care what the papers, or anybody else, even Brock or Misty, says. I know you're alive, buddy. And I'm on my way.


	11. Professor Oak: We Will Remember Them

**Professor Oak: We Will Remember Them.**

 ** _Extract from a speech given by Professor Oak at the installation of a 'blue plaque' on Ash Ketchum's former home in Pallet Town._**

'So then. Whatever DID happen to the Trainer from Pallet Town? And his yellow electric mouse?

Most people thought that Pikachu's body lay at the bottom of some long-forgotten lake, never to be found.

Others said he was still out there, still surviving, albeit too far from home to ever be found again.

Some- the mad conspiracy theorists, mainly- believed that Ash and Pikachu found each other in the end, and lived happily ever after, well away from prison. Not to forget the media furore that would have inevitably ensued.

As the years passed, however, people began to forget. The children of tomorrow found new heroes. There were new trainers, new villains, new friendships, new Pokemon. New everything.

People stopped wondering whatever happened to the Trainer from Pallet Town, choosing to get on with their own lives instead.

But, for this moment at least, we can appreciate what they were. WHAT A TEAM. If they have indeed left this world, let's appreciate what they've done for us all. The joy they brought us. The smiles, the laughter. Never quite achieving their aim of being the very best, but never quitting, never giving up. Always doing their best and always doing good. Pikachu and Ash Ketchum. What a team!'


	12. The Impossible Depths: Part One

**The Impossible Depths.**

One day, a wanderer came across a forest. A far-away forest, a forest that few, if any, humans had set foot in before.

The man made for an intriguing sight- not that there was, of course, anybody around to see him. He wasn't old, exactly; his hair may have been bedraggled and flecked with strands of grey but it was still jet-black in colour. But his skin had a weathered look to it, like somebody who has a large portion of their life outdoors. In many ways, he was old beyond his years.

And, yet, the way he held himself, the glint in his eye, that eternal sense of purpose… well, it almost looked like he had been a Pokemon trainer once-upon-a-time. Though his skinny, malnourished body, hollowed-out cheeks and tatty, ragamuffin clothes made clear that those days had long since passed.

The man wandered aimlessly through the forest. It took him days, for he moved painfully slowly. He survived only by eating wild berries. They were bitter and nasty, but there wasn't exactly a lot of choice in an uninhabited forest in the middle of nowhere. Whilst in the forest, the man was surprised- and somewhat concerned- that he didn't see a single Pokemon. He could hear a constant stream of growls and grumbles, so he knew they were in there somewhere. This worried the man, for he had grown suspicious of Pokemon that refused to show their faces.

Some would say, however, that the man had simply grown suspicious, even resentful, of Pokemon in general.

For days on end, the man chopped and hacked his way though the vast expanse of wild, untamed forest. He used neither scythe nor Pokemon to help him, fighting his way through nature with his bare hands alone. The man was too numb to feel any pain. How much time passed in the forest, the man could not say. Time didn't pass like it used to… A minute, a day, a year, what difference did any of it really make?

One day, however, the man came across something that stirred a feeling inside him. A feeling that he hadn't felt in so long that he had forgotten he'd ever felt it at all.

 _Pity._

It was a Pokemon. What type of Pokemon it was, the man had no idea. Hell, there seemed to so many Pokemon nowadays. Way more, at least, than back when the man himself had first become a trainer, all those years ago.

The Pokemon was clearly in a great deal of pain, curled up in a pathetic heap on the ground.

The man knelt down onto the ground, so as to check if the Pokemon was still alive. And- thank God- it was. There was a pulse. The Pokemon was okay.

Now the man looked for any injuries that the Pokemon had sustained, so he could help the poor beast in any way he could.

Curiously, however, there were none. On close inspection, the Pokemon was physically fine. Actually, thought the man, it was more than fine. It was in perfect condition, the prime of its life even.

And that's when the man realised he'd made a huge mistake.

WHOOSH!

Just like that, hundreds of bird Pokemon descended from the surrounding trees. They cawed loudly, a cacophony of rage, and flew directly for the man. Their cold dead eyes showed no sign of mercy.

And for what, the man couldn't help but think. There's not even any meat on me!

These were nasty, cruel Pokemon, though, hardened by their time spent in this terrible forest. Killing was natural, even instinctual, to them.

Briefly, the man's mind flashed back, back to a time when he had been attacked by birds before. That time, he had barely survived.

This time, he wouldn't. There was no use resisting. He was going to be eaten alive.

The first bird struck him, its beak and claws digging deep into his flesh. An intense spasm of pain shot through the man's entire body.

Excruciating.

Enormous.

And- above all- embarrassing.

 _How stupid, how stupid could I be so fucking stup-_

Black.


	13. Ethereal Conviction

**Ethereal conviction.**

Spinning

Twirling.

Heights unfurling.

Ethereal conviction.

Blinding addiction.

Goals forgotten.

Ambition smitten.

And everything was white.

 _You are ten years old. You are so excited, you are about to leave home for the journey of a lifetime._

 _You are twenty-two years old. You are living the life you never did, with the girl you never got, for the Pokemon you never saved._

 _You are fifty-six years old. You are settled in life, a place to call home and a family your own._

 _You are eighty-two years old. You are on your deathbed but you are happy and you are loved._

 _You are forty-four years old. The excitement is dead, eyes hollow voids. Reality gauges out your brain and birds peck your features away._

 _And everything was white._

You are the master of your destiny.

You are the captain of your ship.

Fate decides your ever move.

There's meaning, so much meaning.

And yet nothing means anything at all.

There's hope, in smiles and friendship.

You're utterly hopeless.

You're real.

You never were.

You're fading.

Fading.

Fading.

Fading…

And everything was white.

So white.


	14. The Impossible Depths: Part Two

**The Impossible Depths: Part Two**

The man opened his eyes.

Everything was fuzzy and undefined.

Lacking clarity.

Unreal.

 _Is this it? Am I dead? If not- then how on earth did I survive?_

Suddenly, a searing red-hot pain surged throughout the man's entire body. His head felt like it was on fire. It was like he had slighted God, who had in turn clocked him around the ear. Damn hard.

 _Well, guess I'm not_ that _numb- I do feel pain after all._

And, then, a blurred shape danced in front of his eyes. It had an otherworldly, spiritual quality. Indeed, the man was convinced it was a ghost.

 _So, I am dead._

After a minute, however, he realised what it was.

It was a Pokemon.

He saw why he had mistaken it for a ghost- the Pokemon had an ill-defined, shadowy quality, most likely because it was looked so hollow and thin. It wasn't particularly scary, though- perhaps because it was, to the man's relief, so small.

The man had never seen a Pokemon like it before. He'd been travelling for so long that he'd seen almost every Pokemon out there, and yet never seen one quite like this. Whatever it was, it was one of the oddest looking things the man had ever laid his eyes on. Grey and tattered and skeletal. Like a ghost-type, but, then again, not quite. Alive but not living, somehow. What on earth was it?

Suddenly, the man sighed. In the olden days, he'd have used his trusty Pokedex, checked out what type of Pokemon it was, made a mental note. His curiosity, however, had long since died. Even if he had discovered a new Pokemon, he just wasn't _that_ interested.

Then, for seemingly no reason, the man fell to his knees. He stomach growled menacingly, like Charybdis herself was inside him, and the man realised that he was overcome with a crazed hunger. He felt saliva building in his mouth, gallons and gallons of it. There was a smell in air, a glorious scent! One that he had not experienced in a long time. One, realised the man, that was provoking his insane pangs of hunger, that made him realise how desperately he needed to eat some proper food, more than just a paltry handful of berries. The smell was like crisp, well-done chicken, the sort his mother used to make, the sort he simply used to long for after he had first left home, all those years ago.

What on earth could it possibly be? Was the smell even real? Or was he imagining it? Could you even imagine smells?

The man rapidly turned his head from side to side, looking desperately for the source, craving it. And, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something. Something very strange indeed. And the man realised where the smell was coming from.

On the floor, surrounding him was a flock of crispy, well-done… Spearow.

But then…

How…  
Oh my.

It must have been…

The man stared at the funny-looking, grey ghost in front of him.

 _It was him._

The Pokemon had saved his life.

For a moment, the man sat there in awe, his depression alleviated for a brief moment. How had the Pokemon done it? There were hundreds of them! And they were so strong! How in God's name could he…

The man had no answers. He could only stare at the Pokemon, with a furrowed some berries out of his backpack, and put them into the paws of the funny-looking creature.

'Here you go', said the man. 'Thanks, buddy. I don't know how you did what you did, but I'm sure grateful…'

The sentence petered out. The man left the funny-looking Pokemon in peace and moved on, although not before he had shoved in as many of the Spearow into his backpack as he could fit in. They should sustain him for a good while.

He hadn't shuffled very far, however, when he heard a sound behind him.

The crunching of a twig.

He turned around, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at what he saw.

 _How curious._

The Pokemon appeared to be following him.

When the man looked closer, he saw that the Pokemon- if that is indeed what it was- had only one leg. If it planned on following him, it didn't look like it was gonna get very far. Why it would follow him, God only knows.

'You know', said the man, more to himself than the Pokemon. 'You'll get nothing from me. No food. No affection. Nothing. But fine. Whatever. Follow me. I can't stop you. It's a free country. Or, rather, it's a free 'uninhabited forest in the middle of nowhere'. You know…'

And so, for some days the hop-along of a Pokemon followed him. It walked where he walked, slept when he slept, ate when he ate. In silence. Always in silence. The two bizarre misfits were bonded only by silence, and that necessity to survive.

One night, however, the Pokemon broke the silence.

It was strangest sound the man had ever heard. It sounded like the dustiest, scratchiest record, one that had been left in the attic for years and years. So much so that you almost wanted to grab the needle off the record and snap it in two, just to make sure the record never played again.

The sound was SO scratchy that the man couldn't figure out exactly what the Pokemon had said, which was irritating because it may have given him some indication as to the species of the Pokemon. Again, the man had never seen a Pokemon anything like this one before.

But, hidden beneath the years of dust, was a song. A song of delicate beauty, one that had been popular and sung-along-to, in happier times, so many years ago.

For some reason, the beauty behind the Pokemon's cry cast the man's memory back, back to the fact that this funny, crippled Pokemon had saved him. This Pokemon seemed to have hidden depths. Impossible depths. Depths of strength and beauty, unseeable to the human eye.

It had saved him from a flock of battle-hardened, cold-blooded Spearow. _How?_

And- more importantly- _why_?

Now, the man thought back to yet another one of his more remarkable memories. Way back, when another flock of Spearow had attacked… no, he couldn't think of that. It was still too painful. It would _always_ be too painful.

But now he had- for the first time in such a long time- let the pain fade away, just a little. His entire mind, his entire _being_ , was fixated on the Pokemon in front of him.

And, for the first time, he REALLY looked at the Pokemon. He looked past the grey. Past the stump of a leg. Past the hollow cheeks and boney spine. Past the tatty, ruined fur.

He looked into the Pokemon's eyes.

And now the Spearow memory was thrust into his mind's eye, front and centre.

Could it be… really…

Then the Pokemon opened his mouth again. And made the sound. _The sound_. It was soft, so quiet it was barely audible. But tough as steel.

This time, the man recognised the sound.

It was the best sound in the whole world.

His eyes filled with tears and he fell to his knees. Because it was. It really was.

'Pika'.


	15. Pokemon News Press: 28-12-2017

**Ash Ketchum and Pikachu: Back From The Dead.**

Would you believe it! Ash Ketchum and Pikachu- remember them?- are back. In an astonishing turn of events, the two revealed themselves to a select group of journalists at a highly anticipated press conference, which had been given only the codename 'Pikapi'.

In the press conference, a smart-looking Ash Ketchum, with his slicked back hair and slim-fit suit, read a pre-prepared statement to the assortment of reporters.

Pikachu, who sat beside him, looked old and weathered, although he had a spark in his eyes that belied his years. Reports of his time spent in the wild have clearly not been exaggerated; the poor Pokemon hopped along on just one leg.

In an ironic twist- and, perhaps, a subtle dig at the police- the press conference took place at the grave of Pikachu. Pikachu was declared legally dead three years ago, after a disastrous kidnap attempt by Team Rocket. Indeed, Jessie is still in jail for attempted kidnap and Pokeslaughter, whilst Meowth is still missing with no clue as to his whereabouts. In the aftermath of the kidnap, the cage in which Pikachu was captured was found smashed into pieces several miles away, in one of the streams coming off the river. The police never found his body, which must have floated for miles, all the way to the ocean and beyond.

In Ash's statement, he announced that the pair were returning to public life to start a charitable organisation called MissingNo. The mission statement of MissingNo. is to 'reunite missing Pokemon, all over the world'. Using their extensive knowledge of the entire Pokemon universe, Ash and Pikachu will be responsible for tracking and locating the missing Pokemon, of which there has been an marked increase in recent years. In addition, Brock and Officer Jenny have been announced as the first employees of Missing No.. Brock will be the organisation's Head Chef, making sure all lost Pokemon are well provided for before they are returned to their original trainers. Officer Jenny, on the other hand, will act as Head of Security. She has been quoted as saying that she is relishing this 'fresh challenge', and will be working closely with Officer Jennys in other towns throughout Kanto to ensure that all lost Pokemon are returned to their owners as soon as possible.

Ash's statement also touched upon another of his old friends: the fiery Misty. The redhead, who recently married Brock in a star-studded wedding, will remain as Gym Leader of Cerelean City for the time being whilst her sisters continue their 'World Tour' for the next three months. When they return to take control of the Gym, Misty will join her husband at MissingNo.. She will work as the organisation's Sea Marshall, tracking down Pokemon suspected of being lost in the ocean.

Suddenly, a blinding light- a clap of thunder- KRACKATHOOM! A blinding light had filled the room! The journalists could only sit there, mouths agape, fearing that yet another tragedy had befallen the beleaguered pair.

But it hadn't. In a stunning move, Pikachu had zapped his grave into a million pieces. The iconic electric mouse then hopped onto Ash's shoulder, a glint in his eye. Clearly, there's life in the old Pokemon yet!

'Death? Ketchum laughed, carelessly kicking at the shattered shards of the headstone as the pair headed to the exit. He flashed a trademark smile, before delivering his final quip. 'It's overrated!'


	16. Epilogue: Talking Cat II

**Epilogue: Talking Cat II**

"He's been in this state for years. No-one's come looking for him, not in all that time."

 _You're blasting off again…_

 _It's warm.._

 _It's cold…_

 _You're floating…_

 _Winding down…_

 _Into the depths of heaven..._

 _Or is it hell?_

 _A paw… can you grab a paw… I can feel it, touch it._

 _But can I hold on?_

You're abandoned as a kitten. You never knew your mother.

You're so hungry. So hungry. Now you're in Hollywood. It's not paradise. It's hell.

"We found him in the middle of nowhere. He was missing an arm. He'd passed out due to blood loss. That and exhaustion. He never woke up.

You're stealing food to survive. People give you nothing. People care nothing for you. You never chose the life of crime- the life of crime chose you.

Now you're part of a gang. Persian takes you in. The father figure you never had. You taste the warm flow of acceptance for the first time.

And then it happens.

Everything turns on its head.

 _Meowzie._

 _"_ But there's something going on in there, some form of consciousness. Look at his face, really _look_ at it. And you can just _tell_."

But you're too poor. You're not human. You're too street. You're just _not good enough_.

So you're learning to talk.

Takes days. Months. Years.

 _She sells seashells…_

Blood. Sweat. Tears.

 _…on the seashore…_

But you manage it. You learn to walk upright. It's unnatural. Feels wrong. Against your very biology. But you manage it.

You do this for her.

She rejects you.

"There's something holding him back, though. Some reason why he won't open his eyes. Something wrong. I can't explain it. But it's the truth."

 _Freak._

Ringing in your ears. It never stops ringing.

Poor Meowth. Poor poor Meowth.

But then you remember. Rocket.

You're with Jessie and James. Travelling the world. You try to catch Pikachu.

 _Over and over._

"He saved Pikachu? Saved him from drowning? From being sucked under the water. Wow. I knew he was something special. Only a special Pokemon could have survived like this for so long."

You come close. Sometimes very, very close. But you never do catch Pikachu. And you never expect to. You never will. But you're happy. It's not the life you wanted. But it is the life you needed.

Then Pikachu is with you. Trapped together with you. And you're hungry. So hungry. Like you're an abandoned kitten again.

And Pikachu's sharing an apple with you. Pikachu saves you. You feel tingly inside, and you realise it's because someone's done something good for you. Someone's treated you like a Pokemon. Because that's what you are.

"It's so great you've come. There's a chance now, a chance he'll respond! The sound of your voices might just trigger something. Maybe. Just maybe."

Not a freak.

Not a lackey.

 _You're a Pokemon._

Conniving.

Prideful.

Greedy.

 _But a Pokemon._

And you just want to be loved. Just like everybody else does.

You're sitting there, under the moonlight, chomping away. Now he's asleep in your lap. Well, a Pokemon can dream, can't they? And you did dream that night. You dream about joining Ash and Pikachu. Being treated like a Pokemon. Forever.

 _You wonder if you did enough… You're there, he's there and you're so close, so close…_

 _"_ One of you has to say something. The one who knew him best, the one who had a bond with the Pokemon, a connection, will be the one who can wake him up. Who was that?"

 _It's warm.._

 _It's cold…_

 _You're floating…_

 _Winding down…_

But you can hold on.

It hurts. Searing pain. Cutting deep.

 _Did you do enough to save him… you wonder if you'll ever find out._

 _"_ Pikachu! Pika, pi."

 _You're blasting off again…_

"His heart rate increased! Say it again!"

 _You're blasting off again…_

"Again!"

 _You're blasting off again…_

 _"_ And again!"

 _You're blasting off again…_

"Pika!"

 _You're blasting off again…_

And everything was white.

* * *

And there we have it. Wow! I'm proud of this story. My longest ever! If you enjoyed, **PLEASE PLEASE** review! I'd love to know what you think! THANKS for sticking with it for this long!

I'd like to write more stuff in the future. Any requests, send them my way, and I'll consider them for sure. I may do a MissingNo. story in the future- in this same universe- about Ash and Pikachu and how they find lost Pokemon. It'll be more lighthearted and different to this- but still fun!

Thank you once again! Harvi :)


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